


Your Life's My Life

by LeapAngstily



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Danger of cavities, Domestic, Drunk Peerlo of Doom, Explicit Sexual Content, Foul Language, M/M, PWP - Porn with Peerlo, Roommate co-dependency
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 10:46:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3171858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeapAngstily/pseuds/LeapAngstily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andrea and Pippo have been roommates much longer than either of them would care to admit. Gigi is the first significant other who could not be scared away. Riccardo did not ask for any of this – he is just the unlucky victim to have ended up in the middle of it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Life's My Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Porpentina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Porpentina/gifts).



> This is dedicated to my lovely roommate, Nanna, who always complains that I should write more Gigi/Andrea instead of the increasingly obscure pairings I like to come up with. This whole idea came from our very co-dependent living arrangements – basically, she’s the Peerlo to my Pippo.

“Pippo’s found someone,” Andrea says nonchalantly as he watches Gigi prepare the dinner, pasta sauce already simmering on the stove, an opened wine bottle on the counter – Andrea’s only contribution to the meal so far has been taking a sip from it and complaining about the poor quality.  
  
“Good for him. What’s she like?” Gigi asks with a smile, adding the spaghetti into a pot of boiling water.  
  
“Don’t know, he’s refusing to say anything. Claims I’m imagining things,” Andrea grumbles and walks over to the counter again, taking a swig from the bottle and grimacing at the taste again for a good measure, “Seriously, this is horrible. Haven’t I told you to stop using this shit?”  
  
“It’s not meant for drinking, you moron,” Gigi sniggers at him and pecks him on the lips playfully before focusing on the cooking again, “Go get another bottle from the cabinet, I need this one for the sauce.”  
  
Andrea follows the order, choosing a bottle from his family’s vineyard. He has made sure Gigi has at least one bottle at all times since they first started dating – what good would it do to be the sales manager of the growing winery business if he could not have a drink himself every now and then?  
  
“Why’d you think Pippo’s dating someone if he denies it?” Gigi asks when Andrea returns to the kitchen, opening the bottle and pouring a glass for each, “I thought he always tells you these things?”  
  
“That’s the point: he does!” Andrea replies, well aware he is making no sense to Gigi, “He went out on Friday and only came home the next morning with this  _I-just-got-laid_  expression. And he’s still not telling me anything!”  
  
“Wait, Pippo has an I-just-got-laid expression?”  
  
“ _Everyone_ ’s got an I-just-got-laid expression.”  
  
“Right,” Gigi rolls his eyes good-naturedly, obviously wanting to argue more but aware he would not win this debate, “So why’d you think it’s important? Maybe it was just a one night stand?”  
  
“He wouldn’t try to hide it from me if that was the case,” Andrea explains as he reaches around Gigi to pick up the wooden spoon and tastes the sauce, “He’d have at least mentioned how the sex was, if nothing else. So it must be someone I know or someone he knows I wouldn’t like. This needs more salt.”  
  
“Or maybe he’s just trying to take things slow before introducing her to you?” Gigi pokes his side to get more room, “Just relax, Andrea, you’re starting to sound like his mother! I’m sure he’ll come clean if there’s anything you need to know.”  
  
“You haven’t met Pippo’s mom,” Andrea sniggers but moves away from the stove nonetheless, sitting down with his glass of wine, casually admiring the way Gigi’s ass looks in his tight jeans, “I can assure you I’m the least of his worries if Marina Inzaghi ever finds out her son’s finally dating someone.”  
  
“You know that comparison doesn’t really make you sound any better?” Gigi asks, one eyebrow raised as he finishes up the cooking, taking two plates from the cupboard, “You sure Pippo doesn’t keep you around only because you’re the  _normal_  mother he never had?”  
  
“Shut up,” Andrea tells him with a wide smile, making a kissy face at Gigi when he turns to look at him, “You make it sound like you want to be his step dad. I’m just looking out for my friend, is all.”  
  
“If you say so,” Gigi hums noncommittally, carrying the filled plates to the table and kissing Andrea to end the conversation, “You’ll never guess what happened at work today. This new French boy – Paul – forgot his phone at Claudio’s desk and—”  
  
The rest of the evening passes in comfortable – and auspiciously Pippo-free – chatter, although Andrea does send his roommate a message when Gigi excuses himself to go to the bathroom.  
  
 _”I know you’re dating someone and I won’t rest until I find out who it is. (Did you pay the water bill?)”_  
  
He receives a reply almost immediately:  _“So flattered you’d think about me even during your date. Love you too, shithead. (The bill’s paid. A shitty attempt at casualness, btw.)”_  
  
  
  
“It’s not Alessia again, is it?” Andrea asks Pippo a few days later as they lounge on the living room couch, watching football with a growing number of empty beer bottles decorating the coffee table, “It must be someone I know – you wouldn’t bother lying if it wasn’t.”  
  
“Or there’s nothing to lie about and you’re just making a big deal out of nothing because you feel guilty you’ve finally found someone,” Pippo deadpans, his eyes fixed on the TV screen, “And I thought you liked Alessia?”  
  
“That was before she dumped you for the fifth time and I had to put up with your sulking for over a month,” Andrea shrugs one shoulder, his tone only half as annoyed as Pippo’s past on-off relationship had made him, “Why would I feel guilty? You’ve gone through a plethora of girlfriends over the years I’ve known you: it’s only fair I’d be the one with a functioning relationship for once.”  
  
“To be fair, it was I who dumped her last time,” Pippo corrects him with a sardonic smile, emptying his beer, ignoring Andrea’s jibe at his less than ideal track record with women, “How’re things with Gigi anyways? Any chance I’ll get to have the place all to myself anytime soon?”  
  
“It  _is_  your apartment: if you wanted to kick me out, you would’ve done it by now,” Andrea smirks at Pippo who only laughs at the comment before getting up to fetch another beer from the kitchen.  
  
“You’d die from loneliness if you ever had to live alone,” Pippo tells Andrea once he returns, handing him a new bottle as well, “If you were to move in with Gigi, at least I’d be free of that responsibility.”  
  
“You’re only saying that because you wanna bring your new conquest here without telling me,” Andrea counters easily, drinking up the rest of his beer with one long swig and opening the next one, “It  _is_  Alessia, isn’t it? You didn’t deny it like all the others.”  
  
“No, it’s not Alessia,” Pippo says calmly and straightens his legs on the couch, resting them in Andrea’s lap without waiting for permission – not that he would get any if he did – “What part of ‘there’s no one’ is so hard to understand?”  
  
“Get your dirty socks off me!” Andrea snaps and tries to push the feet away unsuccessfully, only managing to splash his beer over Pippo’s sweatpants as a result of the scuffle, “Hell, maybe you’re not lying after all – I don’t know how anyone could put up with your shit.”  
  
“Says the man who it took over 34 years to find anyone who was willing to look at you for more than one night,” Pippo chuckles, poking Andrea’s leg with his toes when he finally gives up the struggle.  
  
“In my defence, it’s not like I was  _looking_  for anyone in the first place,” Andrea retorts, taking an angry chug from his bottle and glaring menacingly at Pippo’s feet, hoping it was enough to move them from his lap, “What’s your excuse, Mr. Ten-Girlfriends-In-The-Last-Year?”  
  
“It’s only been two this year, actually,” Pippo hums as he turns his attention back to the match on TV, obviously growing bored with the conversation already, “And I’m not looking either – what can I do when they come throwing themselves at my feet?”  
  
“I feel sorry for Marina,” Andrea notes quietly, hiding his smirk by taking another sip of his beer, “I’m sure she didn’t mean to raise her sons to be a pair of eternal bachelors. She was lucky to get one grandchild out of Simone, huh?”  
  
“Keep my mom out of this,” Pippo tells him sharply, kicking Andrea for a good measure, “I’m really looking forward to the day Gigi pops the question and I’ll finally have you out of my hair.”  
  
“Like you could live without me after all this time,” Andrea singsongs, patting Pippo’s knee affectionately.  
  
  
  
“Maybe you  _should_  move in with me,” Gigi suggests when Andrea brings up the conversation he had with Pippo, “You’ve stayed at his place for, what, five years now? It can’t be healthy for either of you.”  
  
Someone might think it unusual to have this conversation when they are lying in Andrea’s bed only half-clothed, but luckily for Andrea, Gigi has long since understood Pippo is a fixed point in Andrea’s life so there is no point in being jealous.  
  
“It’s more like ten years on and off, actually,” Andrea mumbles against his neck, scraping his teeth against the soft skin, feeling the quickening pulse under his lips, “There was that time he tried to live with Alessia. And I lived in Brescia for a while before the business kicked off properly and I could start handling things online. But other than that, it’s always been the two of us.”  
  
“And that’s why you should move out,” Gigi tells him, but his voice is filled with amusement, “You’re like an old married couple – no wonder neither of you has been able to hold onto a relationship for more than a few months, tops.”  
  
“You’re still here, aren’t you?” Andrea deadpans before he moves lower, licking a trail down Gigi’s chest, flicking his tongue over his nipple, “One year and counting – must be a record of sorts.”  
  
“You say it like it’s something to be proud of,” Gigi’s laugh turns into a loud groan when Andrea pushes his hand into his pants without a warning, wrapping his fingers around his cock, “There’re people who’ve stayed together for – fuck yes, just like that – for  _decades_.”  
  
“That’s why I said ‘and counting’ – don’t think you’re getting rid of me that easily,” Andrea looks up at Gigi who is smiling at him affectionately, his fingers running through Andrea’s hair, wordlessly returning the message right back at him.  
  
“Wipe that smug smile off your face,” Gigi tells him then, smacking him over the head gently, “I believe you were in the middle of something…”  
  
Andrea laughs out loud at that, returning to his mission to make Gigi moan as loudly as possible. He traces Gigi’s abs with his lips, licking every dip and line carefully while using his hands to push the pants out of the way.  
  
“Dear God,” Gigi moans out when Andrea licks the tip of his cock slowly, tasting the drop of precome glistening there. Andrea hums in agreement, his lips pressed against the tip, the sound sending visible shivers through Gigi’s body.  
  
Gigi does not bother trying to muffle his voice when Andrea takes him deeper into his mouth, one of his hands holding the shaft while the other caresses the balls just the way he knows Gigi likes. He moans loudly, his both hands tangled in Andrea’s hair now, Andrea’s name on his lips with each suck and lick.  
  
Then there is a loud knock from the other side of the wall right next to the bed, followed by Pippo’s annoyed yell, “Go stay at Gigi’s if you wanna be loud about it! I’ve gotta be up at five, for fuck’s sake!”  
  
Andrea’s shoulders are shaking with suppressed laughter, but he does not stop with the blowjob – instead, he sucks harder on the tip and Gigi responds by moaning even louder, obviously on purpose to piss Pippo off some more.  
  
Gigi comes into Andrea’s mouth with a breathy groan a while later, his hold on Andrea’s hair loosening as he comes down from his high.  
  
“Come here,” he tells Andrea with a lazy smile, pulling him up and into a kiss, his come mixing on their tongues as the kiss deepens. He splays his hand on Andrea’s boxer-clad ass, rubbing one buttock possessively, ignoring the cock that is pressed against his thigh.  
  
“Just wait ‘til I’m ready for the round two,” he says against Andrea’s lips, his voice almost unnecessarily loud, “I’m gonna make you scream tonight, love.”  
  
They can both hear Pippo’s exasperated groan from the room next door and then there is a sound of a door opening and closing as he leaves the room, probably to sleep on the living room couch instead.  
  
“Have I told you I love you today?” Andrea asks with a wide grin, and then he kisses Gigi again, adjusting his position until he is completely on top of him, straddling his hips comfortably, his erection pressed between their bodies.  
  
“I’m pretty sure you have,” Gigi tells him amusedly, his hands caressing Andrea’s thighs now, “But it’s not like I’m gonna grow tired of hearing it anytime soon.”  
  
“Such a romantic you are,” Andrea coos, dropping another kiss on Gigi’s lips, nibbling his lower lip playfully before muttering, “Now, if you could move your romantic hands to my cock before it bursts? I’d like to get a proper night’s sleep before driving to Brescia tomorrow morning.”  
  
Gigi chuckles against his lips but offers no arguments as he pushes his hand into Andrea’s boxers and helps him over the edge with the experience gained from a year together and counting.  
  
They do have that second round in the early morning hours while Pippo prepares for his own business trip, slamming the doors with unnecessary force when he finally leaves the apartment.  
  
  
  
Andrea walks into the kitchen the morning after his trip to Brescia to find a man he has never seen before.  
  
The intruder does not notice him at first, humming softly under his breath as he pours water into the coffee maker. He is wearing only black boxer-briefs and a blue t-shirt that looks suspiciously like one of Pippo’s.  
  
“Oh, you scared me,” the man startles just slightly when he notices Andrea standing in the doorway, a shy smile spreading across his face, “You must be Andrea – I’m Riccardo, I work with Pippo. Do you want coffee?”  
  
He is obviously younger than them – probably in his late twenties if Andrea had to hazard a guess – and by the looks of it he does much more than just works with Pippo. Except Pippo has never mentioned being into guys and Andrea is fairly sure such an important detail would have come up at some point.  
  
Riccardo is shifting his weight from one leg to another nervously, his eyes darting from Andrea to the coffee maker and back at him, “I’m sorry about the mess. Pippo said I could make some coffee since I don’t have time to go home before work.”  
  
“No, it’s okay,” Andrea finally finds his voice, smiling uncertainly at Riccardo, “Yeah, I could use a cup of coffee, I guess.”  
  
“Coming right up,” Riccardo replies, his voice filled with relief as he adds more water and ground coffee into the maker before switching it on, “I’ve gotta get dressed now, or I’ll be late from work.”  
  
And just like that, Riccardo disappears into Pippo’s room. Andrea can hear them talking, but the voices are too quiet to actually make sense of the words. But no matter what they are saying, one thing is certain despite Andrea’s disbelief: the boy did spend the night.  
  
He sits down at the dining table, opening the morning paper Riccardo must have picked up from the mail slot, because Pippo certainly has never been awake enough to do something like that before his daily dose of caffeine.  
  
Andrea does not remember seeing anyone’s shoes in the lobby or hearing anything when he came home the previous night, but then again, he had been exhausted from the daytrip that had taken much longer than anticipated.  
  
Pippo and Riccardo must have been asleep by then and he had just missed the details because he was so tired, Andrea decides as he tries to focus on the newspaper in front of him.  
  
Pippo appears at the doorway soon after, clad only in his boxers, a line of red and purple marks decorating his neck and chest. Yes, Andrea is definitely not imagining things.  
  
“Why’re you up so early? I thought you had the day off,” Pippo asks, yawning widely as he makes a beeline for the coffee maker. To Andrea’s surprise, instead of just taking his usual cup Pippo rummages the cupboard for a thermos mug, filling it to the brim and adding two sugars before closing the top.  
  
“I’m having lunch with Gigi,” Andrea answers when Pippo finally picks up his own cup, “You know his coffee drinking habits already? How long’s this thing been going on, exactly?”  
  
“None of your business,” Pippo retorts, taking a sip of his black coffee just as Riccardo rushes back into the kitchen, now fully clothed and his hair brushed back neatly.  
  
“Thanks, you’re the best,” Riccardo chirps to Pippo as he takes the offered mug, pecking his lips quickly before heading for the door, throwing one last look at Andrea, “It was nice meeting you Andrea – I hope you enjoy your coffee.”  
  
“He’s cute,” Andrea offers as Riccardo closes the front door, leaving behind a stunned silence, “Also very obviously male, but a cute one nonetheless.”  
  
“Shut up,” Pippo tells him gruffly but sits down across from Andrea anyways, which means he knows it is impossible to avoid this conversation any longer than he already has.  
  
“So, all this time you’ve been saying there’s no woman, did it ever occur to you I might be interested to know there  _is_  a guy?” Andrea tries not to sound too curious, even though they both know he is dying to ask all the questions at once.  
  
“Didn’t know you were entitled to know everything about my life,” Pippo answers with a shrug, his eyes fixed on his coffee.  
  
“A  _guy_ , Pippo,” Andrea lets out an exasperated sigh, pushing the newspaper away, “I never even knew you were into men. Don’t you think that’s the kind of thing you ought to mention to your best friend? Not to mention a gay best friend?”  
  
“Well, I never knew either, not before I met Riccardo,” Pippo mumbles against the rim of his cup, taking a small sip before setting the cup down again, “Sorry. I just needed figure it out myself first.”  
  
“I could’ve helped you figure it out, idiot,” Andrea tells him with a roll of his eyes, standing up and walking over to the counter to get himself a cup as well, “Fuck, Pippo. There’re a lot of things I knew I could expect from you, but you bringing home a boyfriend definitely wasn’t one of them.”  
  
“A friend,” Pippo corrects him softly, still not meeting his eyes, “Not a boyfriend. Just a male friend I happen to fuck occasionally.”  
  
“Looked a lot like a boyfriend to me,” Andrea quips as he sits down again, “He spent the night. He was wearing your clothes. Hell, he kissed you in front of me like it was no big deal! Please tell me which part of that doesn’t scream ‘relationship’ to you?”  
  
“The part where we agreed we’d be just friends?” Pippo suggests quietly, finally looking up at Andrea, but now there is uncertainty in his expression, “He said we could go on seeing other people on the side, since neither of us was looking for anything serious.”  
  
“Have you?” Andrea prompts, the bigger picture finally taking shape in his mind, “Been with other people since this started? When did this start, anyways?”  
  
“It’s been a couple of months,” Pippo admits with a humourless chuckle, “And no, I’ve barely had time to keep seeing him with how busy work’s been recently. Seeing him outside the office, I mean.”  
  
“And what about him?” Andrea asks patiently, resisting the urge to call his friend a moron for not realizing the obvious, “He’s been busy too, right? So busy he had to borrow your clothes and thermos mug, because he couldn’t make it home for the night. Has he been seeing anyone else?”  
  
“How would I know?” Pippo asks sharply – Andrea obviously hit a nerve – “It’s not like we talk about these things. I told you, it’s just sex.”  
  
“Fine, be like that,” Andrea grumbles and picks up the newspaper again, opening the sports pages, scanning them for football news, “But maybe you  _should_  talk about these things with him. He might surprise you.”  
  
“See? This is why I didn’t tell you. I knew you were just gonna poke your ugly nose where it’s not needed,” Pippo huffs as he stands up, picking up his coffee and promptly walking out of the kitchen, leaving Andrea to his football results.  
  
  
  
“You know, this is probably exactly the kind of poking your nose into other people’s business Pippo was talking about,” Gigi notes helpfully as they sit down at the window table in a restaurant across the street from Pippo’s workplace.  
  
“I’m just a bit curious,” Andrea assures him with an innocent smile, picking up the menu and pretending to study it even as his eyes dart towards the office building in hopes of catching a glimpse of Riccardo, “And they’re selling really good tomato soup here. Have you ever tried it?”  
  
“He’s probably just scared because it’s a man,” Gigi continues, ignoring Andrea’s question expertly, “Pippo’s not the most relationship-oriented guy to begin with. It’s no surprise he’s not ready to jump into a relationship right away after just realizing he might be bi.”  
  
“You didn’t see them,” Andrea argues softly, catching a waitress’s eye and waving her over, “They were almost sickeningly cute, much more so than we’ve ever been. If that’s not a relationship I don’t know what is.”  
  
“You can’t decide that on your own,” Gigi tells him once they have placed their orders, “You don’t know anything about this Riccardo, aside from his first name and workplace. Why don’t you just let them figure things out on their own?”  
  
“You sound like Pippo,” Andrea retorts with a roll of his eyes, but he is starting to see Gigi’s point, “Okay, so maybe I’m overreacting a bit. I was just pissed off he didn’t say anything – I’m supposed to be his best friend!”  
  
“It’s not that easy to come out, not even to your closest friends. You should know that, Andrea,” Gigi points out, reaching over the table to take Andrea’s hand into his own, “Just give it time: Pippo knows he can always come to you for help if he needs it.”  
  
“What would I do without you?” Andrea asks with a small smile, squeezing Gigi’s hand gently.  
  
“Probably get yourself kicked out of your place,” Gigi suggests, a teasing smirk on his face, and then he leans over the table to brush his lips against Andrea’s, “Though that’d be a good development for me now that I think about it. Maybe I should start urging you on more often?”  
  
“You got a death wish? Pippo’s mad as a hatter – I wouldn’t put it past him to track you down if he ever found out you were plotting against him,” Andrea notes with a laugh, allowing Gigi to kiss him again, ignoring the disapproving looks they are getting from a few elderly customers in a nearby table.  
  
They have just received their ordered food when Riccardo walks into the restaurant with two other men around his age. He notices Andrea right away, his eyes lighting up with recognition.  
  
“I didn’t know you liked this place. Pippo never wants to come here even though it’s the closest to the office,” he greets Andrea as he walks over to their table, leaving his friends to pick a table for them.  
  
“Yeah, Pippo never did have a taste for great cuisine,” Andrea offers him a wide smile, raising one eyebrow suggestively, “The tomato soup here is the best in Milan.”  
  
“I think he just doesn’t wanna agree with you on anything,” Riccardo replies with an amused smirk, making Andrea chuckle in agreement, before he glances at Gigi uncertainly – Andrea thinks Pippo must have told him about Gigi as well, but the boy seems reluctant to make any assumptions.  
  
“Hi, I’m Gigi, Andrea’s partner,” Gigi introduces himself before Andrea has a chance to do it for him, “And yes, that’s ‘partner’ in the romantic sense. You must be Riccardo?”  
  
“Yeah, I am, nice to meet you,” Riccardo shakes Gigi’s offered hand without hesitation, blushing just slightly when Gigi holds his gaze and refuses to let go of his hand right away, “Pippo’s mentioned you. I’d been hoping to meet the two of you sometime soon.”  
  
“Is that so?” Gigi asks with an intrigued voice as he finally lets Riccardo pull his hand away, “We just found out about you today, I’m afraid.”  
  
Riccardo laughs shyly, his attention turning to Andrea again, “Sorry about that, I was hoping the first meeting would be a bit more dignified than that. Pippo assured me you wouldn’t be up that early.”  
  
“Well, I’m happy I was. If it was up to Pippo, you would’ve probably stayed his dirty little secret forever,” Andrea cannot help the bitterness that threatens to enter his voice again despite Gigi talking some sense to him earlier.  
  
Riccardo looks at his feet, his blush deepening, and when he speaks again, his tone is almost wistful, “I’m sure that’s not true – he’ll come around, there’s no hurry.”  
  
Riccardo’s friends are calling for him – they need hurry if they want to be back at the office by the time their lunch break ends – so he quickly excuses himself with another shy smile and a polite word for them both.  
  
“He’s  _so_  in love,” Gigi states when Riccardo is out of earshot, “I might feel sorry for him if Pippo wasn’t so hot.”  
  
“Hey, is that how you’re supposed to speak in front of your partner?” Andrea kicks Gigi under the table, but Gigi’s wide smile is contagious and Andrea can feel a smirk tugging at his lips even as he speaks.  
  
“You’ve gotta admit Pippo is quite a catch,” Gigi continues, now obviously teasing Andrea, “I might try him myself if I didn’t have you. I’m actually surprised you never thought of it, living with him and all.”  
  
“The nice face kinda loses its charm when you see it every day,” Andrea shoots him down with a shake of his head, “Along with all the annoying habits he doesn’t show anywhere else but home. Did you know he can eat a whole packet of Plasmons in under fifteen minutes?”  
  
“You might’ve mentioned it,” Gigi chuckles into his soup as he busies himself with the food, “So, what kind of a plan did you have in mind? Looks like an intervention might be necessary, after all.”  
  
Andrea thinks Gigi might be the most fickle person he has ever met.  
  
  
  
Pippo had been reluctant to accept Gigi and Andrea’s idea for a double date – just a nice dinner between good friends, Andrea had assured him – but in the end he did not have any choice when Gigi stole his phone and called Riccardo to invite him.  
  
They had agreed on a Friday night: Andrea would be cooking, Gigi would come over as soon as he was done with work, and Pippo would bring Riccardo along once the office closed.  
  
“You don’t need to think of it as a date,” Andrea assures Pippo one last time in the morning as his roommate gets ready for work, “Just, a chance to get to know him a little better, for you and for us. Who knows, we might make a friend, even if the things didn’t work out between the two of you.”  
  
“I’m not doing this for you – I only agreed to this because you gave me no choice, shithead,” Pippo grumbles as he pulls on his jacket and picks up his briefcase, “I told you to stay out of it, didn’t it?”  
  
“Love you too! Have a nice day, honey!” Andrea calls after him cheekily, but Pippo only slams the door behind himself.  
  
Andrea spends the morning and noon working, answering all the inquiries in his email and making a few important phone calls before he decides to call it a day and heads out to the grocery store.  
  
He opens a bottle of wine the moment he gets back, taking a long chug right from the bottle, setting his plan in motion. Gigi’s idea had been for Andrea just to pretend he was drunk, but where is the fun in that?  
  
By the time Gigi comes over, Andrea has the lasagne in the oven and he is busy destroying his third bottle of wine for the day.  
  
“Is something burning?” Gigi asks the moment he walks into the kitchen, rushing to the oven and pulling the lasagne dish out – fortunately the food still looks eatable, only a bit dark on the sides.  
  
“I was just about to take that out,” Andrea assures him with a wide grin, saluting Gigi with his wine glass when he turns to look at him disapprovingly, “Lovely to see you here, Gigi my dear. What took you so long?”  
  
“How long have you been drinking?” Gigi asks with a longsuffering sigh, “I thought I told you not to get carried away?”  
  
“Since I started cooking, so it’s been…” Andrea pauses, frowning as he tries to make sense of the clock, “Maybe three hours or so? And I’m not _that_  drunk!”  
  
“Sure you’re not,” Gigi sighs and sits down next to him, pouring himself a glass of wine as well, “Might as well get wasted then, since the food’s already cooked and all.”  
  
Less than an hour later, when Pippo and Riccardo walk into the apartment, they find Andrea and Gigi making out on the couch, Andrea’s shirt nowhere to be found and his hands buried inside Gigi’s pants.  
  
“Get a fucking room!” Pippo tells them immediately, walking over to them and hitting Andrea on the head to stop him from devouring Gigi’s mouth, “Weren’t you supposed to be cooking?”  
  
“Welcome home, honey!” Andrea answers happily, beaming up at Pippo even though he is having hard time focusing his gaze, his voice slurring and his hands not moving out of Gigi’s underwear, “I did cook, you were just slow so we got bored.”  
  
“And you’re drunk too,” Pippo observes needlessly, turning on his heels and walking back to the lobby, “Come on Riccardo, let’s just leave the lovebirds to it.”  
  
“No no no no no wait!” Andrea stumbles up from Gigi’s lap, his head swaying dangerously the moment he tries to stand up and walk after Pippo. Gigi catches him by the waist just before he falls down.  
  
“There’s lasagne and wine waiting in the kitchen,” Gigi tells Pippo and Riccardo, saying exactly what Andrea had wanted to say, the couple of glasses of wine he had had while waiting not nearly enough to get him drunk, “Would be a shame if it went to waste. You two just enjoy the meal – I promise you he wasn’t this drunk when he cooked it – and I’ll go put Andrea to bed so he can sleep it off.”  
  
“Nooooo I wanna talk with Ricky,” Andrea whines, but he is clinging to Gigi’s neck even as he speaks, mouthing his neck hungrily.  
  
“I’m sure you’ll have other chances,” Gigi assures him and offers Riccardo an apologetic smile, “Sorry, he’s got a bad habit of drinking the cooking wine if no one’s looking after him. Or if he’s bored.”  
  
“Wasn’t cooking wine,” Andrea mumbles against his neck impishly, “You’re the one using the shitty low quality stuff. Mine’s the best in the business.”  
  
Riccardo smiles at them and then turns to look at Pippo who still looks like he wants to walk out of the apartment, “Let’s just eat, there’s no harm in it. We can always order takeaway if it’s inedible, right?”  
  
“Whose cooking are you calling inedible, you little squirt?” Andrea slurs, turning his annoyed gaze towards Riccardo, but before he can say anything more, Gigi takes a hold of the backs of his knees and picks him up bridal style like he weighed nothing.  
  
“You two enjoy your evening,” Gigi tells them with a smile and turns to carry Andrea into his bedroom, “We’ll be just in there if you need us for anything, as quiet as mice.”  
  
“Thanks, I hope he’ll be fine soon,” Riccardo tells them, just as Pippo huffs in annoyance and mumbles: “I hope he chokes on his own vomit.”  
  
“I resent that!” Andrea yells at him, glaring at Pippo over Gigi’s shoulder, “You’re a shitty best friend, Pippo! After all I’ve done for you!”  
  
“Okay, you can stop acting now,” Gigi tells him quietly once he puts Andrea down on the bed, safe behind the closed doors, “Don’t for a second think I believed you were that wasted from less than three bottles of wine. I’ve seen you drunk too many times to know better than that.”  
  
“Pippo still bought it,” Andrea giggles, squirming on the bed until he can kick his pants off completely, “And he’s known me much longer than you.”  
  
“Maybe, but he gave up babysitting your drunken adventures long ago – that’s my responsibility now,” Gigi says with a half-shrug, looking appreciatively down Andrea’s naked body.  
  
“Come here, you,” Andrea tells him with a laugh, pulling Gigi down to the bed with him to pick up right where they left off when Pippo had interrupted them, “This is gonna take a while, so we might as well make ourselves comfortable.”  
  
“You could’ve waited until we had eaten before going all drunken ass on us,” Gigi complains softly but accepts Andrea’s kiss nonetheless, “We’re gonna be hungry as hell by the time they’re done out there.”  
  
“I might have a box of Pippo’s Plasmons stashed somewhere in here,” Andrea tells him with a straight face before succumbing into another fit of giggles – nearly not as sober as he would like to think – “Or we can just wait until they proceed to fuck each other’s brains out and go pick up the leftovers.”  
  
“Unless they decide to fuck on the dining table,” Gigi deadpans, enjoying the way Andrea’s face falls when the suggestion sinks in.  
  
“That’s nasty – I eat from that table!”  
  
“You eat from my table as well and it didn’t stop us from fucking on it.”  
  
“That’s different,” Andrea argues, slipping his hands into Gigi’s pants again, “I don’t mind eating your sperm. It’s Pippo’s fluids I’m worried about.”  
  
“Do we really need to think about Pippo’s fluids right now?” Gigi asks as his hands find their way to Andrea’s ass, fondling his buttocks greedily.  
  
“No, I guess not,” Andrea agrees easily and catches Gigi’s lips in a sloppy kiss, licking the insides of his mouth gleefully.  
  
  
  
“Hey, I was in the middle of a match!” Andrea protests when Riccardo snatches the remote control and his FIFA match switches to a Milan Channel report.  
  
“You were losing anyways – I just gave you an excuse,” Riccardo retorts as he curls up on the other end of the couch, turning up the volume of the TV, his eyes fixed on the screen, “There’s a new transfer coming today, I wanna see him.”  
  
“Why don’t you just go home and watch it there?” Andrea grumbles half to himself, reaching out to take the remote control back but Riccardo only pulls it out of his reach with an annoyed huff.  
  
“I cancelled the subscription: it’s not like I’m ever home long enough to watch TV.”  
  
“Well you should be,” Andrea tells him with a roll of his eyes, “First you keep me up half the night with your loud ass sex, then you hog the bathroom, and now I can’t even play FIFA in peace? I swear if I knew what playing a matchmaker would mean—”  
  
“No one’s forcing you to stay,” Pippo interrupts his complaints as he puts himself between Andrea and Riccardo, comfortably wrapping himself around his boyfriend, “I’m sure Gigi’d be delighted if you were to move in with him.”  
  
Andrea offers his most menacing glare at Riccardo who – being the mature adult that he is – only sticks out his tongue at him in response.  
  
It has only been a few weeks since the two came to an understanding and found a proper balance for their relationship, but Andrea could swear that in that short time all Pippo’s annoying features have transferred to Riccardo.  
  
“And give you the satisfaction of finally driving me away? Over my dead body,” Andrea huffs at Pippo who tries to hide his snigger against Riccardo’s neck, arms wrapped securely around his waist.  
  
“I doubt you’d even survive without each other, though,” Riccardo quips helpfully, his eyes still fixed on the TV.  
  
“Shut up,” Pippo tells his boyfriend, but Andrea can see his eyes are filled with unashamed adoration as he looks at Riccardo. Maybe seeing that is worth putting up with having a third person in their apartment, Andrea thinks privately.  
  
“What’re you looking at?” Pippo asks him suddenly, his eyes meeting Andrea’s even as he keeps nuzzling Riccardo’s hair affectionately.  
  
“Nothing,” Andrea shrugs away his uncharacteristically fond thoughts, “Could you stop being so sickeningly coupley? I’m getting cavities just from being in the same room.”  
  
Pippo smacks him over the head in response, but the impact is much less painful than it could have been.


End file.
